Crazy Little Thing Called Love
by LittleRedHatter
Summary: a songfic request on deviantART. an AU johnlock fic based in the 1950's. Greaser!John and Nerd!Sherlock. John runs into the mysterious new kid...


**Crazy Little Thing Called Love**

So summer was over, and we have to back to stupid school. Guess it ain't so bad, get to see the gang again, and see some hot new chicks. Did miss the London weather though, which is really stupid. It's really hot in Ohio. I was born and raised in London. Dad fought in the army so he wasn't around much. When he died mum, my sister and I moved to Ohio. I was fifteen. I'm the only Brit in the school, besides from Harry. It's pretty cool I guess, got my gang the _Flamers_. And we know some nice looking ladies too.

The gang, me, Harry, Mikey, Greg, Andy, Toby and Stevie, were chilling at the lockers. Harry liked to hang with us; she was a bit of a tomboy. The girls were probably in the toilets applying make-up or something.

"Hey, did you hear about that new kid?" Greg nudged Mikey's arm. Gregory Lestrade was probably the coolest guy in the whole school, besides me that is. He was second in command of the group. Mike Stamford was the chubbiest of us. He was my first mate at school.

"Yeah, some real posh guy from London. Major geek," Mickey laughed.

"Looks like we're not gonna be the only Brits in this school," Harry smiled at me.

"Yeah I guess," I replied.

"Maybe we should greet this new guy," Andy grinned. Never liked Andy. His real name was Gillian Anderson. He was skinny and creepy and weird. He just tagged along with the gang. He didn't even wear a leather jacket.

"Yeah, we should! It will be hilarious!" Toby laughed. Tobias Gregson. Yeah, cool kid. New in the group. He was the youngest too.

"Does anyone know what he looks like?" Stevie asked. Steven Jones was the baddest of the bad. Pretty tough in a fight. Greg and I are the only ones who have ever beaten him, and it was pretty hard.

"Well, no. But Sarah says we'll know him when we see him," Toby replied. Ah Sarah. Went out with her once, didn't go down to well. She and her friend Sally are pretty much attached to the waist. Never liked Sally. She was loud and bossy. Then there was Clara. Pretty little Clara. Harry had a crush on her, and she a crush on Clara. But gays aren't exactly accepted in my day and age. Got nothing against it, but some people do.

"I heard there were two new kids. That guy you were talking about and his older brother. Seen the older brother. Real posh and smart," Harry said. The gang chuckled deviously amongst themselves, coming up with a plan to greet the new kids. The bell rang and we hurried off to class. We always skipped homeroom. We thought it was a waste of time. I was late for Math. Again. There were kids running through the hallways. It was my last year at school, thank God. School was the most boring thing ever. They were always asking what you wanted to do. I had a basic idea. I wanted to fight in the army like my dad, but medicine had grabbed my interest. Probably an army doctor. That would be cool.

I walked right into a tall kid. Books went flying and we fell to the ground. I rubbed the back of my head. It had made impact with the ground, but it was just bruised.

"Watch where you're going twat!" I growled. I looked up. I black haired teen with unusual blue eyes was gathering his books. He had gathered mine and handed them to me.

"I was, but you weren't. You were day dreaming," he said. He was as British as I was. I grabbed my books off him and we both rose to our feet.

"Yeah whatever. You must be that new bloke," I said, "Don't you have a brother or something."

"Yes, Mycroft is older than me," the kid sighed.

"Mycroft? What kind of name is that?" I laughed.

"I agree. It is a stupid name. He is stupid," the kid nodded.

"Excuse me, I have to get to class," I said.

"You have Math, yes?" the kid asked.

"Yes but how did you know?" I said, stunned.

"Noticed it on your timetable. We're in three of the same classes together, Math being the first," the kid answered.

"What's your name?" I asked.

"Sherlock Holmes, John Watson," the kid winked and walked away. I looked at my timetable. My name was across the top. Science. I had science with the new kid. I had a lone desk in my science class. No doubt that the kid will be forced to sit next to me.

I was right. The teacher yelled at me and the new kid for being late. He did what I did, shrugged it off. He didn't look geeky. He had a deep purple shirt and a distinctive black blazer on and dark jeans. He looked different from everyone else. He had the British tan, I guess. I was at the far back corner, next to a window. He took the seat next to me.

"Hello again," he said.

"So, you're Sherlock Holmes aye?" I said.

"Yes John," Sherlock nodded.

"It's not John, its Johnny," I nudged him.

"Whatever you prefer," Sherlock said.

"Look, we're only gonna talk if it's about school work. I don't have much care in the matter, but I need the grades. So you're gonna help me, right Sherly?" I said.

"Of course. And its Sherlock, not Sherly," Sherlock frowned at me. His accent was so strong. I missed the British accent. Harry had lost a bit of it, but mine stayed strong. "So, Johnny, what are we learning?"

"Algebra, my least favourite," I answered with a moan.

"Okay students, take out your textbooks and turn to page 38," Mr Agson said. His voice was a drug. It was the most boring voice ever. We all opened our textbooks. Sir had already introduced Sherlock, it was quick and awkward. Sir wrote equations onto the blackboard. Theory. Fantastic.

"Dull," Sherlock said with a sigh.

"You can say that again," I nodded.

"I've done this before. About eight times. The teachers are always wrong. The textbooks have it wrong," Sherlock shook his head.

"Oh yeah? How do you know?" I asked.

"Because I've researched it. I have, or rather my brother, has connections to some of the greatest libraries and professors in London," Sherlock answered.

"Nerd," I snorted.

"Basically," Sherlock shrugged.

"Any have the answer?" Mr Agson asked. The class looked blank, except for Sherlock. He looked irritated. Mr Agson sighed. "I didn't think you would. The answer is twelve to the power of five."

"Wrong!" Sherlock yelled. Everyone turned to him.

"Excuse me Master Holmes?" Mr Agson folded his arms.

"Wrong," Sherlock repeated.

"It's not wrong. It's straight from the textbooks," Mr Agson frowned.

"The textbooks are old and wrong," Sherlock replied, "And I prefer Sherlock. My brother prefers to be called by last name."

"Sherlock! Are you telling me that the Math textbooks, which are quite reliable, are completely wrong?" Mr Agson growled. Shit, Sherlock. Don't piss Mr Agson off. He can get scary.

"Well, not completely, but that question is. Just one part of it. Eight divide by two, not eight divide by 3," Sherlock pointed to the equation on the board. We all watched Mr Agson's expression as he reread the equation.

"Well I'll be damned. My apologies Master Hol – Sherlock," Mr Agson said. Sherlock had a smug smile on his face. I couldn't believe it. The new kid outsmarted Mr Agson. Kid's got style.

I was so happy when recess came. I had all the boring classes first. It was such a drag. The most exciting thing was meeting Sherlock. There was something about him I couldn't put my finger on. He had a presence about him. He was strange, but intriguing. The cafeteria was full when I arrived. I found the whole gang at our usual spot. It was a large picnic table outside undercover. Everyone knew it was our spot. No one dared sit there. I grabbed my lunch off Harry and sat next to her.

"Hey guys, guess who's in Math with me," I smiled.

"Who?" the all chimed in.

"The new kid. His name is Sherlock Holmes. His bro is Mycroft Holmes," I replied.

"Were their parents stoned when they named them?" Greg laughed.

"That Sherlock kid though, man he is good. He outsmarted Mr Agson," I said.

"No way!" the all said in shock.

"Yeah he did. It was hilarious!" I smiled.

"Yeah, I think I wanna meet this Sherlock Holmes," Sally grinned.

"Yeah I bet you would. Just so you can get in his pants," Andy chuckled.

"Shut up Andy!" Sally snapped.

"Guys! Shut up! That's him over there," I pointed. They gang all turned to follow my gaze. Sherlock and a taller kid were sitting at a round table not too far from us.

"I wonder what they're saying," Harry said.

"Someone should eavesdrop on them," Clara giggled.

"I'll do it," Toby stood up, only to be dragged back down by Greg.

"You make too much noise numb nut," Greg said.

"You should go over their Johnny, you sorta know him," Mikey suggested.

"What?" I said.

"Well, if he catches you, you can just say you were seeing how you were going with school," Mikey replied.

"Yeah, like a greaser is gonna say a friendly hello," I rolled my eyes.

"They could," Mikey said.

"You're an idiot Mikey," I shook my head, "But if none of you pussies will go over there, I will."

"Be my guest," Andy said, stepping aside. I jumped up from my seat and snuck around the cafeteria. The table Sherlock Holmes was sitting at was near a small garden on dense shrubs, easy to hide in. I snuck to and ducked down, bearing through the branches. Sherlock was picking at his food while the other kid had scoffed down most of his. All that was left was half a cake.

"Sherlock, you need to eat," he said.

"Dull," Sherlock said with a sigh.

"Sherlock, you don't want to upset mummy again," the other kid said with a stern face.

"I'm always upsetting her Mycroft, what difference does it make if I eat?" Sherlock replied, leaning back into his chair.

"Ah, you'll live."

"I just need something exciting to happen. Isn't that why we moved here?"

"No, we moved here because you got kicked out of every school for being a smart arse."

"They were wrong."

"Yes, they were, but that doesn't mean you should rub it in their faces."

"I can't exactly turn my intellect on and off you know."

"But you can restrain yourself!"

"But they were wrong! They needed to know their place!"

"You're a stubborn fool Sherlock. You get me kicked out of school."

"I always hated that school."

"I liked it."

"It was full of preppy snobs who thought they knew everything and thought they were better than everyone else."

"Sounds just like someone I know."

"Oh shut up Mycroft."

"Well I liked it, it was a good school. It had excellent education. There you could've gone on and lived your dream, become a private detective."

"Consulting detective Mycroft. I only want the cases that intrigue me."

"Yeah whatever. I could've gone into politics, government, the CIA, the FBI, all of that. But you had to be smart and insult the head prefect."

"She was sleeping with all the prefect boys. I just merely pointed that out."

"Merely just pointing it out? You yelled it out in front of the whole school!"

"They should know what a tramp she is."

"Sherlock! You're a headache."

"So I've been told."

"You need to find yourself a friend."

"I have a friend."

"The skull is not your friend."

"What about Mrs Hudson?"

"She's our nanny and she doesn't like you."

"Then who?"

"I don't know; someone here? Start afresh. Maybe even…find someone."

"What do you mean?"

"You know, a partner."

"I don't follow."

"A lover Sherlock."

"Mycroft, you know I consider myself married to my studies."

"Yes, and that's the problem. You just need someone, friend or lover or just someone there. You need to get out, to live life. Just have fun."

"I have fun."

"Studying isn't fun Sherlock."

"To me it is."

"Sherlock! Just promise me you'll try, okay?"

"Fine, I'll try. But I'm not promising anything," Sherlock folded his arms and pouted. Mycroft sighed. And that was the end of their conversation. Mycroft said something about going to chess club and disappeared, leaving Sherlock alone with his studies. I hurried back to my group. They were all keen of what I had to say.

"So? Give," Harry smiled.

"Well, that's his brother Mycroft, total geek," I said, "Sherlock had been kicked out of a lot of schools for apparently being a smart arse. He wants to be a Consulting Detective, whatever that is. Mycroft is pretty smart. Wants to get into government or something. And Sherlock is…strange. He thinks eating is dull. And doesn't have any friends."

"Huh," Harry said, "Odd."

"Yeah defiantly," Clara agreed.

"So are we gonna give him a special greeting or what?" Toby asked.

"Oh yeah. Seems we should put him in his place, yeah?" Andy grinned. The group agreed. I agreed, but didn't mean it. Usually I'm up for pranking someone and making trouble, but not then. I felt bad. I never felt bad. I don't know why. It was a strange emotion guilt. And sympathy too.

The plan was simple. New kid and his brother go to leave school, and then we get them with rotten fruit. My gut was telling me not to do it. I ignored it. I always went with my gut, but not that time. My mates would think I chickened out. Didn't want them to think their fearless leader was a chicken. So we waited. Pretty much everyone was gone by the time Sherlock and Mycroft left the school grounds. We followed them to the back gate, away from the prying eyes of other students and teachers. As soon as they stepped on foot out of school we plastered them. The rotten fruit was easy to get, there was a grocery down the road from school. We just kept smashing them with the fruit. We had even found some rotten eggs. I put in the least effort. Guilt was eating away at me every time I chucked something. When we were finished we laughed and ran off, but not before I gave an apologetic look at Sherlock.

"Ha-ha! That was great!" Toby laughed, holding his sides.

"Freaking funny!" Sally slapped her knee.

"You guys are idiots!" Harry barked. She didn't throw anything. She just supplied us with ammo. Harry was strong, she did whatever she wanted. She was a revolutionary woman. I was proud of her. She knew who she was and what she wanted to be, and no one could tell her different.

"Oh shut up Harry, it was hilarious," Sally nudged her.

"It was kinda mean," Clara shrugged.

"But it was funny!" Mikey laughed.

"Yeah, hilarious," I put on a fake smile. It was killing me. Shut up head! He's just a random new kid, no need to feel guilty. But I was.

"Hey Johnny, you coming down to the diner?" Greg asked.

"Yeah, just gotta do something then I'll be right there. Save a seat for me and order the usual," I smiled. The gang nodded and ran off towards Stevie's van. It was a crummy piece of junk, but it did its purpose. I don't know how many girls he's had in there. Lost count at twenty. I walked back to the school with my hands shoved into my pockets. To my luck the Holmes brothers were still there. Mycroft was almost clean, and he was cleaning Sherlock with a towel. Sherlock kept pushing him off, but Mycroft was determined. He frowned when I appeared.

"Oh, it's you. What do you want?" he asked unhappily.

"Can I talk to your brother for a second?" I asked.

"No," Mycroft snapped.

"Please?" I tried again. Mycroft opened his mouth to speak.

"No, it's okay Mycroft. You can leave," Sherlock said. Mycroft hesitated, glancing between me and Sherlock. He gave me a nasty look then left. I waited until he was out of sight before I turned to Sherlock.

"Look, I just wanna say I'm sorry," I said.

"Really? Greasers don't tend to say sorry to nerds," Sherlock folded his arms.

"Well I am okay? So deal," I snapped.

"You don't have to act tough. You're friends aren't here," Sherlock said. I was surprised the he said it kindly. I was expecting some sort of harshness.

"Yeah, but you might talk," I replied.

"I won't. I have no one to talk to," Sherlock said, "Oh, and I knew you were listening to me."

"What? How?" I blinked.

"Your friends were staring at you," Sherlock answered, "The blonde, Harry, is your sister yes?"

"Yeah, you know her name?" I replied.

"Yes, I know all your friends' names. They're quite popular. Seems your group are very respected," Sherlock said.

"That's good to hear," I nodded.

"You better get going, don't want to leave your friends waiting," Sherlock suggested.

"Yeah, sure. See you around Sherlock. And sorry," I said and ran off.

"Apology accepted," I heard Sherlock say behind me.

It had been a week since the Holmes brothers had come. I didn't talk to them much. I've talked to Mycroft once, and the whole conversation was just insults until Sherlock broke it up. I hardly ever talked to Sherlock, only when it was necessary, like schoolwork. He was in my Math, English and Science class. The kid was a bloody genius. He really was. My lack of concentration on schoolwork was concerning, according to my parents. So they decided to hire a tutor. My friends thought it was freaking hilarious. Apparently some nerd from school is gonna come to my house and teach me crap I don't want to learn about. Math, English and Science I was failing at. Sure in Science if it was biology I would be fine, but no, it's stupid Chemistry. I sat in my room tuning my guitar. The door knocked.

"John! Your tutors here!" I heard mum's muffled voice say.

"Yeah, coming!" I yelled back. I put my guitar down and walked out into the living room. Well I'll be damned.

"Sherlock, this is our son John," mum smiled.

"Yes we've met," Sherlock replied.

"He's your tutor John," dad grinned.

"Okay," I said.

"How about you two work in John's room, aye? Ignore the mess," mum smiled. Sherlock followed me into my room. I closed the door behind us. It really was a mess.

"Nice," Sherlock said.

"So, you're tutoring now? Been here only a week and you're tutoring," I said, leaning against the door. Sherlock sat on the edge of my bed.

"Yes, Mycroft's idea. He's on the school board now. Fantastic," he replied.

"If you hate it so much why are you doing it?" I asked.

"To make Mycroft shut up," Sherlock answered, "There are only two ways to shut him up; do what he says or shove cake down his throat. I often go for the second option, but that doesn't always work. Sometimes he just keeps talking."

"Awesome…" I trailed off. Sherlock sighed.

"So Johnny, what shall we start with?" he asked.

"Dunno," I shrugged. I sat next to him. Our elbows were touching. Something strange stirred inside me. I couldn't explain it. I took it as nerves. I get nervous sometimes, sometimes people get nervous for no apparent reason.

"We don't actually have to study. You could always copy my answers, but that won't be good for what you want to be," Sherlock said.

"You know what I want to be?"

"Army doctor."

"What-how?"

"Well, from what I've gathered from you, you want to be like your father. He's was a respected army captain who died when you were fifteen. So you and you're family moved here, starting afresh. You want to be like your father, and you have a great interest in biology, so army doctor it is."

"How do you-"

"There a pictures of your father around your house. One he was in army uniform. I can tell from his badges and medals he was a captain. The last picture of him was with you, and you were fifteen. Your parents had always wanted to live in America, I could tell from the brochures hiding in the background of the photos. Now, how do I know your father has passed away? There are flowers next to the last photo of him, commemorating his death. Your mother wanted to live her and your father's dream, and moved to America. He was your role model. Of course he was, he's a soldier. And from the medicine and hospital books I see scattered around your room, I can deduce you're interested in being a doctor. So, follow in your father's footsteps and doing something you love…army doctor."

"Wow that was…amazing."

"You really think so?"

"Yes, yes I do."

"That's not what people normally say…"

"What do they say?"

"Piss off."

Sherlock came over to tutor me after school every day. Except weekends of course. He stayed for three hours. My grades went up, to my parents delight. It had been a whole month since Sherlock had come from London. I learnt that Sherlock's father got a job in town as a professor at the college. The family never saw much of him. He was always working. Their mother tutored some of the kids from college, so the brothers didn't see much of her either. The had a nanny, Mrs Hudson. I've met her once when she came to school. She was nice. Mycroft wasn't fond of me, and I wasn't fond of him. He was always struggling with his weight. He had gained a few pounds since he first arrived at school. Sherlock made continuous jokes towards him and his weight. There was a lot of sibling rivalry between them. Both were unbelievably smart, but Sherlock was just a bit better. I liked Sherlock. I wouldn't call him a friend, but we were somewhat close. He was a good tutor…sort of. He was stubborn and impatient, but a good tutor.

We sat in my room. It was a Friday; school was over for the week. We had just finished studying.

"Do you wanna hang out?" I asked. Sherlock frowned, not understand my question.

"I don't know…wouldn't your friends mind?" he replied.

"Please, they can live without me for a few minutes. I know this cool tree house, come on let's go!" I exclaimed. Sherlock followed me out of my room and through the house to the large backyard. A huge tree was right at the back. An old oak tree with a tree house in it. We walked to it and climbed up into it. I helped Sherlock up when he slipped on the rope ladder.

"Thank you," he said as we leaned against the timber wall inside.

"This was here when we bought the house. Harry hated it, so I took it as my private place. Where I can just chill and be me, you know?" I replied.

"Has anyone else been here?" Sherlock asked.

"Had few girls here. The gang have hung here a few times. Don't use it as much as I used to," I answered.

"Pity, it's quite nice," Sherlock said, his eyes examining every part of it.

"Yeah, it is. Back in London dad made one for Harry and I. Harry doesn't like heights, but I played in it all the time. It was cool," I smiled.

"I've never had a tree house. Mother and father were always busy and Mycroft stopped playing with me when I made him walk the plank," Sherlock replied.

"Walk the plank?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"When I was younger I wanted to be a pirate," Sherlock answered.

"Oh yeah cool. I've always wanted to be a soldier," I said.

"It's a great honour to become one," Sherlock nodded. I looked at him. Our eyes locked. His gaze was so penetrating, but I couldn't look away. I don't know what happened next, it was all such a blur, everything went so fast. I leaned in and kissed him. At least a minute passed before I realised what I was doing. I jumped back from Sherlock. He looked just as confused as I was. I turned away from him.

"I think you should go," I said. I heard him leave. I pulled my knees to my chest and wrapped my arms around my legs. I pressed my hands against my knees. I just kissed Sherlock Holmes. Me! I'm not even gay! I'm as straight as you can get. I've been with plenty of girls. I have no desires for men. So why did I enjoy kissing Sherlock? I don't think he liked it. I'm not sure he even likes girls. I don't know what he likes. I don't think anything. I moaned. There were butterflies having a party in my stomach. I had enjoyed kissing Sherlock Holmes. And I had no idea why.

Sherlock didn't tutor me anymore. My grades were good enough that I didn't need a tutor. I tried to talk to Sherlock as little as possible. I didn't even look at him. I was grateful that the teachers had decided to do a seating plan. I would no longer sit with Sherlock in the three classes he was in. We sat far from each other. Sherlock tried to avoid me too. I often heard Mycroft asking him what was wrong, but Sherlock just shrugged him off. He would always give me dirty looks. But then again that's Mycroft.

"Hey Johnny, you coming?"

"Huh?" I blinked. I had zoned out again. I was doing that a lot for the past week. It was recess and the group was just chilling at our usual spot.

"Are you coming to Benji's birthday party?" Sally asked again.

"Yeah of course," I smiled.

"Awesome! Benji's parents are out of town and his older brother is gonna get some beer. Everyone's gonna be there. Heard some college kids are coming too," Sally winked.

"Meet some nice chicks," Greg grinned.

"You're a horny bastard Greg," Harry said.

"You're just jealous Harry because I'm getting laid and you're not," Greg smiled.

"I'm happy being a virgin," Harry shrugged.

"God thanks guys, now I've got disturbing images of my sister in my head," I frowned.

"Oh grow up John," Harry scowled.

"This party is gonna be awesome!" Toby exclaimed. They were like that for the rest of the day. It was Wednesday. That night was the party. It was easy to sneak out of home. Harry and I had done it a thousand times. We walked towards Benji's, which wasn't too far away. Benji had the coolest parties. His parents were always going on camping trips.

"So, what happened with you and Sherlock?" Harry asked. We were a few minutes away from Benji's.

"What do you mean?" I replied.

"You guys have been avoiding each other all week. I thought you liked him," Harry answered.

"As a tutor. He was a cool tutor," I shrugged.

"John Hamish Watson, tell me what the hell is wrong," Harry scorned.

"Nothing is wrong. We're just not studying together anymore. Jeesh," I rolled my eyes at her.

"You're so stubborn sometimes," Harry shook her head. I was grateful when we arrived at the party. And boy, was it a party. Benji had the biggest backyard ever, and right in the middle was a bonfire. It was cool as can be. Benji and some of his mates were on stage singing some Elvis. There were some nice chicks there. The gang were there, talking the opposite sex up. I joined them. I was chatting up some hot blonde when I saw someone in the corner of my eye. At the back of the crowd almost out of sight was Sherlock Holmes. It looked like his brother forced him to come. He had his arms folded and was pouting.

"Johnny? What are you looking at?" the blonde asked.

"Oh, ah, nothing. Just wait here baby doll," I winked and clicked at her before walking away.

"Okay," the blonde smiled, playing with her hair. I didn't even know her name. Oh well. I walked towards Sherlock. I decided enough was enough, we were sorting it out. My grades had gone down again, and he was the best tutor I've ever had, and I've had a lot of tutors. Sherlock noticed me and turned towards the garage. The garage was huge and was on the other side of Benji's huge house, out of sight. I followed him. He was trying to escape me. Before he could get away I grabbed his blazer and pulled him back.

"What!" he snapped at me.

"How long do we have to do this?" I asked.

"Do what?" Sherlock replied.

"Avoid each other? I've had enough. We need to sort this out," I frowned.

"There's nothing to sort out. You kissed me then flipped, the end," Sherlock folded his arms.

"Yeah, of course I flipped! It's just that…I was sure I was straight…" I rubbed my temples.

"And now you're not so sure," Sherlock finished the sentence for me.

"Yeah, pretty much," I said.

"What do we do?" Sherlock asked.

"Dunno. Leave it, I guess. Homosexuality isn't exactly socially accepted," I answered, "Great, now I'm starting to sound like you, fantastic."

"Homosexuality is beginning to be accepted," Sherlock said.

"That's true," I replied, staring into his bright blue eyes. I hadn't realised how close we were. I blushed and turned away.

"No, I like it when you blush," Sherlock smiled, catching my cheek. He leaned in and kissed me. It was amazing. A proper kiss. He wrapped his arms around me and I wrapped my arms around his neck. It was the best kiss in my life. Tongue and all. Bolts sizzled up and down my body. It was a while before we parted. We breathed on each other, smiling.

"Sherlock, have you ever been with anyone?" I asked when I caught my breath.

"No. Back in London at the last school we were at, they had a nickname for my brother and I; the ice man and the virgin," Sherlock answered.

"How about we get drunk and change that little nickname of yours," I smiled, moving a strand of dark curly hair from his pale face. He grinned in agreement.

Sherlock didn't disappoint. We got plastered. I remembered we had stolen from sheets and pillows from Benji's and returned to my tree house, where Sherlock and I had the best night of our lives. For a virgin he was damn good. I didn't know what any of it meant, but it felt amazing. Waking up was a bitch though. My hangover was like hell. I rolled over and smiled at the naked body lying next to me under the sheets. He smiled back.

"Morning," I said.

"Morning," Sherlock grinned.

"Last night aye?" I nudged him.

"Divine," Sherlock said.

"So, any reason why you woke me up?" I asked.

"School," Sherlock answered.

"Really?" I groaned.

"Yes. We still need to go to school John. I am in as much pain as you are. Besides, I have to hurry home before Mycroft realises I'm not there," Sherlock replied, getting up. I pouted. We hurried to get dressed. I kissed Sherlock goodbye and we returned to our bedrooms. I didn't know if I was gay, bi or just curious, but I didn't care. Sherlock was good enough for me, even better.

Sherlock became my tutor again, which involved an hour of studying and three hours of making out. It was hard at school. We had to pretend we were just friends. We didn't hang out together at school in case we would risk kissing each other, or something along the lines of that. Three months passed since the Holmes family came to America. Sherlock told me the real reason they moved to America. Apparently some kid called Jim Moriarty was stalking him. His mother mentioned how much she wanted to go to America, so they left. Jim got help, Sherlock's father made sure of that. He was a very interesting man, Sherlock Holmes. Never forgot a thing and saw everything. He had some strange, and sometimes annoying, quirks. I thought they were cute, half of the time. We were in the tree house. It had become our spot. We were just lying there, staring at each other. It was beautiful. Sherlock frowned.

"Sherlock, what's wrong?" I asked, stroking his cheek. His hands were on my chest.

"I've been meaning to tell you something," he said, "I'm not entirely sure what's wrong with me; I try not to get mixed with emotions. But lately, well, ever since I met you, there's been something strange going on in my heart."

"Strange?"

"Yes John. It's like happiness, but greater. I feel it when I'm with you, even more when we're touching, even more when we're kissing, along with other emotions… It's difficult to describe. It's almost unbearable. When I'm without you, you're in my head and my heart hurt so much until I see you again. Just the very thought of you makes me smile. I don't understand it…"

"I do."

"You do?"

"Yes I do. I feel the exact same way."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Then…what is it?"

"Just a crazy little thing called love."


End file.
